Mamma brought from her time in the jungle two gifts for the child, for his brother and his sister, three small wooden Amazonian banks, very much like the ones maloka elders sit upon and share word of life, the second gift, I kept to myself and the jungle from where it came. Then amazement became known to the child in a whole new dimension. What is this bank, who carved it, who painted it, what do the grafisms mean, do they convey any meaning?

The child sat on the wooden bank for hours unending, meditated, painted, wrote his first short story on it “welcome, are you hungry, please come on in, there is some hot cocoa and some bread and some cheese, it is warm in here. And the child learnt to sacralize and share, still envy wanted to keep at it and bring on another battle, the battle for trust, giving in such an inharmonious setting was an invitation to steal ones might and thunder, well a corollary, those who share their bounty get some, those who don´t are not welcome.

Amazement, one can share and find trust worthy people with whom to share, where would they be over the face of this earth, the first ones, mom and dad, my grandpas and my grandmas, my brother and my sister, then along the way, some more have been known and are joyfully remembered, the others lost to memory their faces and their deeds, forgiven by time and time alone, the river will wash away their faces, amazement for the child, he stood up for himself.

Amazement, the friend of awe, the ability to stand on top of structural mazes, and walk like Tom Sawyer and not fall down through the crevasses of the mind, the adult mind; a=non maze=complicated structures ment=grand, non-grand structures to be able to meet awe, a sunrise is new every day a sundown is old every day.

Amongst animals one can learn about amazement, felines for example, they play with a thread for a week or two, then leave it behind, and then a week or two later, they discover the thread again, as if nothing.

It is a very fine mood to know and train for it, with contentment, along with amazement and some savvy states of awareness, trained along life’s path, remembered through spiritual work, labor, joy, prayer, fasting and specially, love and respect of higher self, higher purpose.

As child’s living in the city, one day, some friends and myself, in Medellin, we embarked in and adventure, seven of us went walking bare footed into the belly of the beast, we traversed the neighborhood through the gutter, wow, what an ecstatic experience. All the odors from all the neighborhood, the feces, the urine and all the diverse animals that resided under the houses and under the streets.

Barefooted, how silly of us, now they sell soap on tv that makes a shield against all kind of bacteria, We the children of the streets, back then, we festered amongst this bacteria, awe and amazement, we started our long journey into the dark belly of the underneath your toilet, if only you had seen what we saw, rats navigating on excrement.

Governing smell was easy at first, smell deep, don’t fight the smell… by myself I was already studying the qualities of odors, and had asked myself upon vomiting over the smell of a deeply mature camembert back in Bakata, who had taught me that here was such a thing a bad odors? Who the heck felt in its high grace to bring such a filthy notion to a child?

When in the gutter, this was my train of thought and in this manner the child could walk the path, still there was a surprise almost at the end, we walked for what it seemed like an eternity, the tunnel kept becoming longer and there was no light on sight, we did have a couple lanterns, so we could admire the spectacle of when people flushed their toilets and the gutter was nurtured with pee from pipelines feeding the gutter, shit, cockroaches of many sizes gazed back at us, and the rats as well, not so big as the city rats of today.

Just when we were at the later third of the tunnel, I felt despair, wow, what a deep emotion, it took the child by surprise and the odors overloaded and puke became available, stand firm, vomit, breathe in, breath out, an instant of ecstatic fear, and a question, where is the end of the gutter – all darkness sourrounding-? The answer, hope, from a friend, “keep it up Sergio, we are almost there” the friend, the real kid from the streets, and the child thought “has he been in here before” wow, street wise admiration, vomited some more, muster some strength, resiliency became stronger, and we kept on walking for a hundred yards or so, left turn of the gutter, the midday light of San Javier, Comuna 13, Medellin, my home town, my home turf.

Now we know how a child knew a maze and transcend it through, hope, amazement and awe of its surroundings and real child friendship. And the grown up understands the child’s affair with mazes, puzzles and getting to know his own mind on his own terms.

Know the self can laugh a bit about the learnings and some phrases of some friends resound in laughter, one yagecero friend told me at the beginning, that every yagecero should revolt in it own excrements to know himself fully, well Taita, this are my deepest excrements, this experience for life, all the urine, the human shit, the transformation of noble nature into filthy rats and cockroaches, as people see them, all of this bathed my child’s feet, so my senses, developed by now, feel humanity from the gutter up, no illusions, no lies, I walked your shit, kid your selves not envious ones.



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